Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
"Life is not measured by the moments we take,
but by the moments that take our breath away."
This is false! I have had a vendetta against this phrase from the moment I laid eyes upon it. Yes, I know, it's meant to be a cutesy play on words and to describe those amazing moments that life throws our way but honestly how many times has life sincerely taken your breath away? If that is what measured life or kept me alive . . . I would be dead. When I moved into Michelle's house this phrase had been left in vinyl lettering on the wall and I never took it down. It has sat there on it's high horse, next to the ceiling, taunting every move I make. Today I decide to take my freedom back! Let the catharsis begin! I say to this sign as I strip it from my wall, "you are FALSE sign! Life IS measured by the breaths I take! It is NOT measured by the moments that take my breath away!"
Ahhhhh - feel better all ready.
Friday, September 18, 2009
I love that you came into Gabby's life and in that I gained a sister - I was surrounded by brothers all my life and you will never know how grateful I am to call you hermana!
Monday, September 14, 2009
Speaking of classy . . . that reminds me of an incident that took place the other night. I was walking across campus to my car from my night class and walked in front of the Browning Arts Center. It was a buzz with the energy of dressed up old people and puberty stricken middle school -ers. I thought it was an odd combination but I should have known. As I walked, I conversed with myself about the possibility of asking someone what was going on – just ask nicely – no big deal – oh never mind, it doesn’t matter – a little curiosity never hurt anyone – come on (and so forth). So I got my courage up and as another group of geriatric socialites made there way passed me I decided I was going to ask, “Excuse me sir, what is going on tonight?” (super nice right? I even added the “sir”). To which he replied, glaring down at me as if I had asked if he had been alive when Lincoln was president, “What!?!? Why the symphony, of course!!!!” Huffing angrily passed me, as if I was a non cultured bum, he continued in to enjoy the sy-MPH-ony. Hmmh, I thought, on my way back to the car, if he only knew who he was talking to. I’m as cultured as the next person. I love the arts, I’ve been to the Smithsonian, I’ve been to the symphony. Hey, I even like to listen to the classical music radio station as I drive around – it makes me feel superior to the other drivers on the road (sadly, my superiority lasts for a short while because I look around and realize I am driving a Pontiac with a leaky roof and a turn signal that never turns off – but none the less).
Now, if I ever see that man again, I can add one more thing to my list of what makes me just as classy and sophisticated as he is . . . I eat ice cream in a pita pocket!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Just call me Bourne, Jason Bourne. A new dawn is awakening and I . . . I am the new dark night of espionage. Oh, do I have a story to tell . . .
I came home tonight from a lovely dinner with Gabby and Marcela. I pulled into my usual spot and sat. I sat thinking about all that seems to be swirling around in my mind lately. I finally got out to make a call and when I was done, to my horror, my keys were not in my pocket. I stood frozen in the driveway and instantly new of the mistake that I made again - - - 4th time in 3 months - - - keys locked away firmly in my car. After calls to 24/7 locksmith’s and finding the going rate at $80.00 and an hour wait, I sat on my front porch and cried. Not just tear-up cry but full on crying so loud I though the neighbors would come out to see what poor creature could make such a wounded cry. How could I do this again – Michelle wont be home for hours – How could I be so foolish – why, why, why! (Seriously, just a tad of the emotionally overdramatic)
Then, all of a sudden I thought – Why in the world are you crying? What is that solving? I stood up and thought - - - all of my detective TV show and action movie watching must be good for something! I took two bobby pins out of my head and began to attack the front door lock. It can’t be that hard – I have seen it million of times on TV – push in, turn, twist – something’s gotta give – wait, what was that? someone’s coming. Just at that moment a jogger went by as I stood perfectly still in the darkened doorframe. I realized that wasn’t working so I went to the side door and combined my bobby pins with my second elusive espionage tool . . . Jamba Juice gift card. I slide and pushed and pulled to no avail. There I was, on bended knee with bobby pins and a Jamba juice card – wow. Next, it was the back sliding door. Again, nothing. Back to the side door – this has gotta work! I never, in a million years would have believed it, had I not heard the “click” myself. Suddenly there I was – inside the house . . . and laughing. I had done it.
Hollywood – here I come.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
If only it would have rained yesterday, it would have been my perfect kind of day. It was beautifully overcast and at times the sky threatened to bestow the earth with it's tears but alas, it never came through. I went to visit my parents in the afternoon. Someone was mowing out back as I made my way across the front lawn and through the door. The house was quiet and dark as I made my way through the rooms looking for my mom. I glanced into my old room and then into my parents, followed by the room that Marcos and Mario can both now claim. The sheets were off all the beds and I smiled. It's amazing that little things, like sheets off a bed, have the power to bring back whole years of a person's life. I was hit with such emotion that I was a child again.